If I Should Die Before I Wake
by OdileWasAGirl
Summary: A series of oneshots dealing with Dean’s impending death after the crossroads pact.  They will focus on Dean & Lila before death and her relationship with Sam in the aftermath. DeanOFCSam  SMUT New Chapter is SamOFC
1. Notes

**If I Should Die Before I Wake** is a series of short stories dealing with Dean's impending death after the crossroads pact.

All the tales here are based around an original female character named Lila.

Each piece will range in rating from G – Adult.

The entries are in no particular order. They will focus on Dean & Lila (before death) and her relationship with Sam in the aftermath. It's all just very angsty.


	2. Down, Down, Down

**Title** – Down, Down, Down

**Rating** – Teen

**Author** – Lorilie

UnBeta'd

_Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave  
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;  
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave; _

_Fighting they go, the warrior, the soldier, the loved.  
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned._

She never noticed how big Sam was until she stood next to him at his brother's grave.

There could have been something poetic about the way he loomed over her, crushing her hand in his rigid grip. Her dead lover's brother, almost beautiful in the way he stood too close to her, hair hanging in his eyes – he reminded her of willow trees swaying limply in the cold, wet wind of a bracingly somber afternoon.

Sam had cried enough for the both of them, even as they stood next a coffin in dirt he cried, trembling begrudgingly next to her. When her own tears fell she didn't notice.

_Dean was dead._

Sorrow didn't come close to describing the feelings. _Sorrow_ was too neat a word. She felt such a culmination of nastiness and pain, grief throbbing in her chest, rising up her throat…

There was nothing clean-cut about the way this woe was suffered. No comfort for her or Sam, when the priest read Dean his rights the world filled with death, demons, eternal suffering. The opposite of what anguished mourners are encouraged to think about, he was not okay, there was no everlasting peace for his soul.

She wilted into Sam, not that he was a steadfast confidant. Not for all his attempts to placate her. He became inevitably aggravated there was nothing he could say to comfort either of them.

Therefore, they stood reduced to what they were at that moment. She let him wrap sturdy, long arms around her, he held her to tight but she didn't mind. Sam distracted for a fleeting moment in knowing at least she was there, he wasn't alone…not yet.

She closed her eyes tighter and tighter. Hoping that maybe she could pretend Sam was his brother if she imagined it hard enough. Unfortunately she had never been good at make believe. Sam held her with too much care, paid cautious attention to the wretched details of her anguish, to be mistaken for his former half.

Dean would have never known to hold her hand or stroke her hair. Dean hardly had the patience to wash laundry, opting instead to buy new shirts at the closest secondhand store. Sam didn't have to ask her what parts were too much, he just knew. He caught her digging through Dean's duffel bad, sobbing the bathroom floor, laying on freezing tile. _I don't have anything to wear to his fucking funeral_ She'd lost her only dress and thought perhaps it had been thrown among his things. Didn't think it would bother her until she realized she could still smell him on the cold, soft flannel shirts. She hadn't used his name in days, referring him as _him_ or _you brother_, never Dean

Sam picked her up, dabbed at swollen eyes with a warm cloth and made sure she was sleeping before he left. He'd walked back into their motel room hours later holding a gray bag, and presented her with the black dress. The most wonderfully heartbreaking piece of clothing she'd ever seen. Sam sighed gravely, laying it out on her bed, and forcing a smile when she thanked him.

They stared with rainy eyes at the fresh mound of earth covering his not-so-final resting place and she wondered if she would stay. Dean had been her only reason for living such a sinister life, and now that he was gone there was nothing holding her there…nothing other than the lanky man standing next to her.

If she stayed, _it_ would always be there. Sam was there and _Dean_ wasn't. Sam had a cloudy guilt in his eyes when she looked at him and she didn't know if she could endure it with every awkward glance. Every interaction a variation on a theme – a theme built on grief and culpability.

When she couldn't take it anymore he knew, and guided her back to the car with a hand on her back. She paused, looking back at a headstone that was nothing more than a pointless marker to a lifeless body. It wasn't his body they dreamt about at night, the soul that once resided there was the nightmare was what played again and again.

Sam offered to drop her off somewhere, suggested timidly that he'd take her to her father's if she'd ask. She didn't ask, instead thinking, _he'd want me to stay with you…_


	3. Before the Eviction

** Title** - Before the Eviction

**Author** - Lorilie

**Rating** - adult

* * *

_Before the eviction, Eden was a swingin' place and Adam and Eve were just two care-free kids livin' on love._

They're staying in small, rented, two bedroom house in Tennessee. It's a quiet working class neighborhood, and no one bothers them or asks questions and they keep to themselves. Sam's at ease, Dean's content yet antsy and Lila's in high spirits.

Dean watches as Lila sighs and bats at the rebel hair hanging in her face. She's attempting to make dinner. He didn't ask specifics, doesn't want to get his hopes up. She tries her hardest but it's a fifty-fifty toss whether it'll turn out alright or she'll send him out for burgers. She's actually quite a terrible cook, but he'd never tell her that, half because she already knows it, and half because he doesn't want her to stop trying. He'll take her overcooked pork chops and soggy cornbread over Mcfood any day of the week.

He appreciates the fact that she tries to keep a semblance of normality. In a world of demons, ghosts and impending doom her biggest worry is estimating how many baked potatoes Sam will eat. Dean saunters oafishly into the small kitchen, his bare feet making a sticky noise on the yellowing linoleum. She doesn't notice him until he presses into her back, squeezing between her and the counter.

"Did you get milk?" He asks the questions even as he reaches for one the three new cartons bunched together on top shelf. He likes to think their just for him.

"Yeah, it's in the frig…" she trails off, preoccupied with sawing raw potatoes in half. "I see you finally put some pants on - hey, use a glass" Dean hesitates for a moment, eyeing her and holding his milk protectively, then moving to opposite counter, hiking himself up onto it.

"I am" he checks to see if she's watching for taking a swig out the container and wiping his mouth. "Thanks for doin' laundry, I've was going to and then I things came up" She holds up and a hand to cut him off.

"I didn't mind, I thought you might like something clean to put on when you finally decided to join the land of the living." Lila flashes him a genuine smile and starts a small battle with the aluminum foil box - she wins, barely.

She's wearing her blue apron Sam got her in Mississippi, he loves it when she wears that fucking apron.

"Mans gotta sleep for a couple days every now and then. Besides, it's a bonus for you, you get me all to yourself with nothing' but skivvies and a smile." He reaches out and swats her on the ass when she bends over to find a baking pan. She jumps a little and flails a hand at him, giving him her warning face, but unable to cover up the amusement in her eyes.

"That reminds me" She reaches into a paper grocery bag and pulls out a package of white undershirts throwing them in his direction. He catches them in his milk-less hand.

"Did you get the ones-"

"Of course, no tags and no itchy Dean." She cocks her head and raises an eyebrow looking over her shoulder "I'm not new"

"You're the best darlin'."

"Yes, yes I am" She slides two mystery casserole dishes into the oven and pops the door shut. "Dean?"

"Yeah"

"Second warning, glass" she opens up a cupboard and reaches one of the only three mugs they own. She turns and hands to him just as he's drinking from the carton again.

"Thanks" He takes the cup from her and sets it on the counter. "Come here"

Lila eyes him cautiously for a moment before stepping up to him, letting him pull her between his thighs, her hips pressing into the edge of the countertop. Dean can feel her smile when he kisses her softly on the lips, soft suction and the hint of his tongue. She likes it when he cups the back of head and tangles his fingers in her hair. He starts to move his lips down her jaw and then neck, scooting hips forward to meet hers.

"Dean" she breaths halfheartedly, but pulls away from him. "Not now." She bites her lower lip and looks at him with that look she gets…he knows that look. Knows it wouldn't take much to get her naked and panting.

"Oh come on babe, have a heart." He covers his heart with his hand and pouts at her.

"No, Sam's going to be back any minute" She sounds firm but he might be able to turn her around, sneak in a short fuck before dinner.

"I'll make it quick" he raises his eyebrows, and she shakes her head. _Wrong tactic_.

"You're such a romantic Dean."

"Is that a no?"

"That's a definite no"

"Fine" He concedes, but shoves the mug further away from him, letting it bang into the toaster so that she knows he's not using it. If he's not getting sex he's definitely going to drink his milk any which way he wants.

"After dinner Dean" She swoops back over between in legs and whispers into his ear as if someone else might have been listening. Dean smirks when she says the three magic words, "anywhere you want."

:: 

Dean trades subtle glances with Sam as they watch Lila look proudly at a meal based entirely on starch. The baked ziti is edible, undercooked but easily disregarded. Sam comments that she's really got the whole _baked potato thing _down and she smiles widely and watches him eat. The pumpkin pie is a whole other story…

At one point Sam unscrews the top on the salt shaker, Dean end up with white pile in the middle of plate. Lila giggles until her cheeks flush, and smirks even harder when Dean pitches her his this-really-isn't-funny face. She makes the mistake of the looking at Sam who's snickering silently, when he relapses in to small fits of laughter she gets up and makes Dean a new plate, grinning and giving her yeah-Dean-it-really-is-funny face.

:: 

Dean claims his normal spot on the counter, and watches her wash the dishes, beer in hand. Sam offers to help her, she thanks him and hands him a Bud light and tells him to relax. Instead of retreating into another room, Sam slides down the cabinets and sits on the floor, sipping at his bottle. The kitchen is petite to begin with, and she thinks about asking them to move, but stops herself. They're already involved in some sort discussion about transmissions and cost of replacement.

For all the complaining they do about close quarters and personal space they never seem to be far away from each other.

Lila thinks back to a time when they were holed up in ramshackle house in Tennessee, place smelled like shit and had cockroaches everywhere…but it was her favorite of all the makeshift_homes. _While attempting to break a curse Dean had gotten the three of them trapped in a aging three story house on the oldest part of whatever little town they were in.

They had nothing but each other, and by the fifth day they'd stopped fighting and pressing nerves and learned to enjoy each other. She remember taking a bath while Dean sat on the floor of the bathroom, on hand leaning over the edge of the tub letting his fingers dip in the water. Sam sat outside the door, just out of visual range, talking to the both of them like it was nothing.

Definitely not normal, though comforting.

"Did you get any orange juice?" Sam's voice jogs her from her memories.

"Yup," she pauses and looks up at the two of them staring at her "I grabbed you two half gallons this morning."

"Thanks" Sam grabs the jug from the refrigerator and opens the cupboard. Lila gives Dean a indignant look as Sam pours himself a glass.

"No problem, anything else you want sweetie?"

"Sweetie?" Dean cocks his head and hops down from the counter, "Since when do you call my brother sweetie?"

"Since he used a glass." She smiles big and kissing Dean softly, patting him on the chest. "I'm taking a shower now."

:: 

Dean's sitting in their only chair watching an surprisingly interesting infomercial detailing the specifics of a two-in-one juicer-blender. He's considering calling for Lila and asking her if she thinks she'd ever use. It seems like something a normal man would do. What with the fact he has an actual mailing address for once, it seems like a logical step to order some sort of kitchen gadget for his woman.

He's picturing what she'd look like cutting up oranges wearing nothing but that damn apron when he hears it. Slow strains of music fluttering out from the hall. It's heard the song before, it's one of her favorites…

Skip James

_Was nothin' but the devil, changed my baby's mind  
I laid down last night, laid down last night  
I laid down last night, tried to take my rest _

Lila only plays her favorites when she's in _that _mood. She calls him with it, turns on the stereo and lets the music summon him - letting the cords and a blues-hardened voice beckon him. He's out of his chair and opening the door to their room before remote hit's the floor.

"What took you so long?" she smiles at him from her perch on the edge of the bed. She's naked, legs uncrossing as she stands, grabbing a pillow and moving to him. "Shut the door."

Dean feels an all too recognizable excitement when she looks at him with those eyes. He reaches out, wanting to touch breasts, palm her soft skin, touch her everywhere...she's knows his first move is to the bed and she cuts him off at the pass.

"Uhuh" she shakes her head and places a hand on his stomach keeping him at arms distance and pushing him back until he's bumping into the wall. "I want you standing"

Lila bites her lip and drops the pillow on floor at his feet, before he has a chance to comment. He sighs tightly as she descends to her knees, fingers already pulling at his belt. She's sly about it, nuzzling her face into his crotch, nipping to him through his jeans. He watches her biting with teeth and plump lips kissing the denim, giving him the overture as she presses her nose into his zipper. She moans softly, eyes closed and face titled up toward him in her state of some blasphemous prayer.

"_sofuckinghot_" he mumbles pulling her hair back, as she opens her eyes.

"Take your shirt off" she whispers sitting back, making sure he can see when dips her hand between her legs, spreading herself and letting a finger play at her clit. Dean tugs the shirt over his head and licks his lips watching her for moment, working herself as whimpers his name. She's eyeing him as she rubs at herself, and lets her body undulate upward once before settling back onto her knees.

Dean huffs out a tight breath watching her kiss the skin of his lower stomach and she pops his top button, then pulls at the zipper. Every muscle in his body constricts when her tongue darts out, licking at him abstractly with her nose pressed into the thin trail of hair that leads downward. He grunts and bucks forward when he feels her stroke his erection through the material of his boxers.

"Shit" he gasps, twisting impatiently as she hooks fingers under his waistband and tugs the material down. He looks down at his cock bobbing obscene in her face and twists a hand in the hair at the back of her head.

Lila wastes no time in swallowing him whole, thoroughly enjoying how he jerks forward and presses her head into him at the same time. She moans around him, choking a bit when he shoves too hard with the hand fisted in her hair. Not that she really minds, he gets her all worked up when he's like this, when he's begging for her.

It takes everything humanly possible not to come when he feels his dick hit the back of throat, and then again when she starts up with the unbelievably hot sucking noises she makes in between gentle sighs and moans. He cranes his head to the side, watching her mouth bounce on him one hand gripping the base of him and the other snaked between her own legs, teasing herself. She staring up at him, eyelids heavy with lust, and the way her lips are stretched around him makes him weak in the knees.

"Sweetheart you gotta stop before I…_fuck_" he chokes out as she purposely increases her suction, humming around him. "God, I'm gonna fuck you so good"

Lila fully intends on getting him off with her mouth, until she hears him growl out those words. His hands drop from her hair to the tops of her shoulder, unsuccessfully reaching to pull her up. She gives one last full gulp of him and lets him pop from her mouth.

Dean has his arms hooked under Lila's, pulling her up before she even knows what's happening. She laughs sweetly, when his hands grip her ass, lifting her up. A second later she's underneath him on the bed where he spreads her thighs roughly dripping his head to taste, licking her rigidly before moving up to her breasts paying the same definite, but hurried attention to both.

His hand slips between them, gripping his cock and swiftly guiding himself in. After that it's one sudden, rushed thrust he's in her to hilt, Dean's eyes roll back in his head and face drops to the warm crook of her neck. It's a forceful, quick pace he starts out with but Lila just calls his name and closes her eyes. Dean thinks everything about her is wonderful, the way her breasts press up into his chest, her legs drape around his waist, her hands at his back and gripping his hips.

He kisses her, tongue dipping at the corners of her mouth as he ruts into her, harder and faster. Pushing them both up the length of the bed, until he has to reach up with one hand gripping the headboard and keeping them in place. It's a position he keeps for quite some time, to Lila's delight. She loves it when he's rough, slapping into her hard enough to make it hurt in morning. The noises are amazing, the of slapping bodies, squishy, messy sounds of sex she can hear between grunts, groans and the words they speak to each only when they're indisposed. Dean whispers loving and tender things he would never admit to, and the words Lila spits back would make her blush to say the least.

There are three loud thumps on the wall and Lila gives a gentle, breathy laugh as she hears Sam yell something from the next room.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean hollers back, hiking both her knees over his shoulder, and heading for home. Lila reaches down, two fingers working her to her peak.

It only takes a few well placed strokes before she's coming with a strangled cry, pleading with him, _don't stop, right there baby_, begging him to fuck her through it. Dean watches her face, lips panting open and eyes squeezed shut and it's enough to get him there. He gives one last hard shove and comes hard and shuddering inside her.

Dean nearly knocks of the wind out her when he drops the full weight of his body onto her. He lets her stroke his sweaty, overheated back while he catches his breath. He can feel her heartbeat racing in her chest and her sharp breath in his ear.

"_Iloveyou_" he murmurs the phrase fast and strung together. He only ever says it when their post-coital, only has the balls to admit it when he's still inside her.

"Love you too," she confesses back, purposely making her response as minimally vulnerable as possible.

He kisses her temple, pulls out and rolls off, flopping next to her one hand on his chest.

"I think we woke Sam up." Lila muses rolling onto her side.

"Uhh" he groans, and brings his hand to his slick face, "please don't bring up my brother's name immediately after sex ever again."

"I just saying-"

"Well don't" he cuts her off. Lila smiles at how truly irritated he sounds.

"I'm going to clean up" she pops up with all the energy in the world and grabs a robe. "You want anything? Water? Milk? Both?"

"If I say milk will you bring me the whole container?" he huffs, turning his head to look at her and cocks an eyebrow.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"Water it is then" he concedes, throwing a spare pillow in her direction, which she dodges gracefully. "You're the best" he yells as a afterthought as she closes the door behind her.

"Dude will you stop yelling" he hears through the wall again.

"Damn it Sammy, you have the best fucking timing…shut up!"

:: 

Lila hands Sam a cup of coffee and takes a seat next to him on the porch swing, cradling her own mug cautiously. It's chilly in the mornings there, and the street smells like exhaust and motor oil as all the good citizens of the world leave for work. This has become their private ritual. Most mornings she meets Sam and they watch the sunrise together, she's not sure when or why it started, just did.

He's always the first one up, she never fails to find him with that far away look in his eye. There's a sadness about him she tries to see past but it's always threatening to break the surface, secretly she hopes one day it will. She'd never admit it herself but she wants to know him, not that they aren't close, but he intrigues her. She wants to save him from whatever pain he's wallowing in…deep down she knows she never will.

"Good morning Sam" she comments softly, voice still sleep-husky.

"Hey" he smiles at her, and edges further giving her more room. "Dean still sleeping?"

"Yeah"

"Oh" Sam can't hide being uncomfortable to save his life, and it makes Lila grin like the Cheshire cat.

"Sorry about last night" She says in low voice blowing on her coffee.

"No it's fine, I should have…I didn't mean to…It's more Dean than it is…" he finally stops realizing everything he can think of is more embarrassing than the last.

"No, it's rude of us Sam, you shouldn't have to be the one to catch us…_in flagrante delicto" _Lila clears her throat and stares down at her hands. They are both quite for a moment.

"Do you think Dean would even know what that means?" Sam's trying to keep a straight face but she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Probably not" she admits chuckling to herself.

"That's enough for me" he flashes her a genuine grin and swing an arm over her shoulder. "I'll take the small victories any day."

"I like it here Sam" Lila tips her head back, resting on his arm. "You think we'll have to leave soon?"

"Probably" he divulges after a moment of hesitation, "can't stay in one place too long…you know how it is"

"I know, a girl can dream though." She jumps a little as a truck backfire somewhere down the block. "It was nice while it lasted."

"I liked it here too."

* * *


	4. To The Right Degree

_Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy. - Aristotle_

_ ::..::..::  
_

There's far too much emotion woven between the two of them. They know each other too well, and words can escalate before either of them have a chance to regroup. Buttons are so easily pushed when you know where their hidden. Lila has a sharp tongue, but Dean checks his filter at the door, she has a way of making things blurred, obscures his vision until he can't see, all he can do is feel.

Lila tells herself it's just the liquor, they're both drunk and tempers sometimes flair. She's pacing in front of the window, trotting back and forth in front of the broken air-conditioning unit. The warm air is playing in the heavy orange and brown curtains. She's irritated by the billowing drapes and hits them childishly with her hand at every pass.

Dean shuts his eyes, and tilts his head with a clenched jaw; Lila make him furious. Of all the seven deadly sins anger is possibly the most obstinately delicious. Tonight his prose was one of hurt and vengeance, specifically designed to mar her. He licked his wounds and smacked his lips over grievances long past. He tested his tongue to the sour prospect of bitter confrontations still to come. He's savoring the last toothsome morsel of pain he's given and the pain he's hurling back - in many ways it's a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that the meal he's wolfing down is himself. The skeleton left at the end of the feast is him.

"I don't get you," He wrestles with his jacket, he's overheated now, starting to sweat and irrationally blames her for his being uncomfortable.

"Well that makes two of us."

There's a fine line to keeping his own anger in check. Harsh cords simmer inside him, while the heat rises and he's boiling over. They don't fight often, Lila is passive by nature, but when they do wage war it's vicious.

"You're a fucking asshole." Lila spits, she's shaking with rage, eyes blazing wild.

"You're a bitch." He mumbles, with a frustrated smile, nothing left to do but run his hands through his hair and try to keep from killing her.

"I can't believe you, you can't just act like that because you want to. You can't yell at me in front of other people…in front of strangers Dean! It's embarrassing." Lila feels her cheeks flush at the thought of Dean taking a swing at a guy three time his size, and then dragging her to the car by her arm. Lila's never seen him that quick to anger before, it throws her for loop.

Dean punishes himself, not that he realizes his own masochism. Lets himself think of what she'd look like bent over the bed, body pushing back into _that piece of shit _that had his hands on her. Pictures lips parted, hair mussed, tits hard - all for the sake of someone else.

"That wasn't _my_ fault, I'm not the one who was half naked, parading myself around-" He can't even finish, instead clenching his jaw.

"That's not even fair, this is jeans and a tank top…" she throws her hands up, clasped fists and shaking her head with eyes wide. "It's not like I'm wearing a g-string Dean. I didn't _do anything_, that guy grabbed my ass, not the other way around. I can't believe you took me there anyway…of all the places…and you invited Sam?"

"I don't know what you want from me Lila?" Dean holds up his hands in mock surrender. "You said you wanted to go out, I took you out. And since when do you got a problem with Sammy?"

"I said I want you to take me out Dean_, you_. Not your brother…god damn it…fucking-air-so-fucking-hot" Lila kicks the useless wall-unit with each word, and pulls back her hair, waiting for an answer she knows will only make matters worse. It's only a matter of time before someone complains to the office, she knows they're making too much noise.

"I did take you, how was I suppose you to know you want it be just the two of us. And what was wrong with that bar anyway? We've been to a thousand others just like it-"

"That's the whole point," she slumps against the window ledge, breathing hard and heavy with abhorrence in her fierce stare. "I wanted to do something other than what we always do. Why is so hard to understand I want to do anything other than ride in the fucking car or wait in some motel room or eat the same food in every diner or hole-in-the-wall bar or fuck on dirty sheets. That's ALL we ever do Dean, the same things over and over again. I thought maybe you might, I don't know, take me to a movie…or for a walk…or anything other than this." she's sobbing now, tears falling without abandon.

Dean understands what she mean, identifies with the _want _but resents her for saying it at the same time. _Fuck her. _It's not like this was his childhood dream, this isn't the life he dreamt of, but he shuts up and just lives it. Because these are the cards he was dealt.

"I didn't realize I wasn't good enough for you." His tone is calm for the moment, but the malice behind the words is unmistakable.

"NO, no, don't turn this into that. That's not what I said." Lila moves toward him as her voice raises, renewed at how maddening she finds him.

"It sounds to me like that's exactly what you're saying." He looks at her with hard eyes and a still jaw. Lila hates it when she sees him like this, she watches him shut himself off to her. "If you're so unhappy why don't you just…" he stops before he says it. The last of any filter he has left.

"Say it Dean, come on." Her voice is nasty and torn with pain.

"Nobody's keeping you here." he looks her dead on, his tone flat and resolved. His heart flutters straight away and he wants to take it back.

"You're a heartless son of a bitch you know that?" Lila's shaking, closing her eyes and ready to move away from him. Ready to leave, wondering if Sam is in his room. "You always gotta be a God damn bastard huh?"

"If you'd stop acting like such a bitch I wouldn't have to. Fucking Cunt." _Shit_. He's never should have gone that far, but it's perversely satisfying to watch her face drop when he calls her _that_. Gives a little release to the hold this fury has built up inside him.

Lila snaps back when she hears it. _Cunt_. She hates that word more than anything, he's never used it before because he knows it cuts her, deep and raw. "You're such a coward" She's in his face, aggressive and hostile, standing over him where he's sitting on the bed.

"Yeah, you tell me what you really think." Dean gives a half chuckle and waves his hand as if to dismiss her.

"Sad, little lonely-boy Dean can't admit to anything other than 'I'm always right'" She puffs, heaving in his space, and wishing she could wipe the smirk off his face. "You're a useless piece of shit."

"No more useless than you sweetheart" He grabs one of her wrists and pulls her close "You think you mean anything more to me than pussy?" he shoves a hand between her legs, rough and forcible to accentuate his words and she squirms back in shock and disgust. .

Lila reacts instantly "fuck you" she shouts, her voice is the battle cry for the tears already rushing to the frontlines.

She slaps him.

She slaps him harder than she knew she could, the sickening sound of the her palm connecting with his face. Dean's not expecting it, and his head snaps, already the taste of the blood in his mouth.

There's sudden confusion, her body being tossed about without warning, and a pain in her arms. Before her hand even begins to sting he has her pinned under him. Both her arms twisted high above her head, wrist held together in the grip of one shaking hand. She whines in shock, struggles upward, but there's no fighting him, the entire length of his body laid out over her. His free hand forcefully grips her face, pinching her cheeks brutally, lips scrunched as he squeezes her face in his hand, forcing her to stare at him.

"Look at me" He's seething, spitting commands in a venomous pitch.

"Go fuck yourself"

For a moment there's so much rage, white hot anger blinding him, making him want to tear her apart for making him feel anything.

He cocks his hand back, his first instinct is to backhand her. Dean watches her screw her eyes shut and turn her head to the side, letting out a mousy cry in preparation for what's to come. It comes to him in the fragile moment that could end so much…he's not mad at her. There are plenty of things he's furious about, Sam, his father, this life, his own pain…but not her. It's between twenty-something years in coming and when he does finally breakdown he lets it go on her.

He feels wet, coolness slide down her cheeks and when he looks at her now there nothing left but the frightened look across her face.

Dean wishes she would slap him again, but really knock the shit out of him this time. Give him what he deserves. The forgiveness for anything_she's done _is immediate, instantaneous. For what little of this anger is connected to her is based around the fact that she's seen him, Really looked into who he is, been there for his mistakes, bore witness to his inadequacies. Never really realized he harbored any resentment until right then. Lila had done nothing but witness his humanity…and she hadn't run.

He looks down at her, all tears and trembling…he feels nauseous. He can handle her hating him, but not fear, he doesn't ever want her to be afraid of him. The guilt of it all is devastating, and he is besieged with the realization of how far and fast the anger he harbors takes him.

Lila opens her eyes when she feels him let her arms go, and his hands inching between her back and the mattress, hugging her. He buries his face in her neck, hot, uneven breath against her pulse point. She doesn't move, instead just lays there limp as he curls his body around hers and cries softly into her skin.

It's a litany of repentance, whispers of apology, appeals for forgiveness, admissions from both sides.

"Are you going to leave?" When he asks her, she sighs and wraps arms around him in return.

"Of course not" She lets her fingers play with the short hairs at the back of his neck as he nuzzles his face further down, nestling between her breasts. He can hear her heartbeat frighteningly fast , thumping against his ear. "I'm sorry I said those things…" she sighs, sounding wholly exhausted.

"I didn't mean it " Dean shakes her head in her chest, can't bring himself to look her in the eyes yet. She knows he can't say all the things he wants to. It's alright because she can't either. Talking gets them into trouble they can't get out of.

:: 

Two weeks later in Wyoming, Dean hi-jacks her on a Sunday afternoon. He holds her hand while he drives, thumb rubbing the back of her hand and watching how she smiles at the afternoon light. He sneaks glances at her, noticing for the first time the rosy hue in her cheeks, delicate color on pallid skin. Watching the soft curl of dark hair, surprisingly long; he marvels at how beautiful she emerges when she's blind to her own loveliness.

He finds a old revival theater, in a town so out of the way he'd never be able to find again if his life depended on it. The tickets are cheap, but the popcorn is stale and the only thing playing is a animated kids movie he's never heard of. She tells him she can't believe he's never seen _that movie _and they're definitely staying. Dean sends up a silent prayer of thanks that he remembered his flask. It's a exquisite, rundown theater , Lila can smell mold and new paint as they sit in ratted seats. Lila thinks it's fantastic. He's there with her, arm slung over her shoulders as the lights dim and her eyes tear up at the opening credits of An American Tail.

_And even though I know how very far apart we are_

_It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star…_

Dean fucks her in the parking lot, she rides him in the backseat, squirming and moving her hips while he bucks up into her. Her teeth chatter over his lips, kisses hard and meant only for him. He fists the pale yellow material of her dress where it's bunched at her hips, rough hands cupping her ass, adding to the insistence of her hips, bringing him deeper and harder until she's aching with lust. Her back curved sharply, harsh gasps when his dick finds her sweet spot and all she can do is say his name. She digs fingers, clawing into his shoulder, cock buried deep, while quivering muscles tug at him. She jerks when he comes quickly with a muffled shout, mouth still pressed into her breast.

In the end it's not a far-reaching gesture she's been hoping for, just a small moment, something private that's only theirs. There are no romantic dinners, no theatre tickets and no moonlit walks - no, instead Lila gets a cheap film, a flask of whiskey and a quick fuck. And in this life, not the ideal, not the fairy tale, but in this real existence…it's perfect.


	5. Decline Your Hallucination

_I respectfully decline the invitation to join your hallucination - _Scott Adams

:::::::: 

Sam drives with white knuckles and a far away stare. He doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, doesn't ever stop unless she asks him to. His body sits rigid, two hands on the wheel and foot heavy on gas as if he has somewhere to be. There is no destination and they both know it. There is no reason left, motivation slid winding down the drain five states back, now it's just movement. Forward motion to keep it going, _can't stop, won't stop _Sam thinks he might die of he stops now 'cause there's an aching itch under his skin that won't go away no matter how hard he claws it.

_I hate this car. _

Sam's glad she's the one who said it so he didn't have do. He hates it too, hates everything about the gritty engine rumble and the screeching twinge of the doors. He thinks about selling it, weighs the thought of someone else driving it to the unnerving feeling of driving the fucker himself. No one else should be sitting behind the wheel - Lila suggests they burn it. Wants to buy a gallon of gasoline, drive out into the desert and watch her go up in flames. She begs him, cries wildly and makes a scene at the Amoco until he has to pick her and lock them both in the unisex bathroom. She just wants to get rid of it, she warms him she'll walk from here on out because there's too much of _him_ wrapped up in the damn car.

He knows how she feels.

When he can't bring himself to do anything but throw her back in the car and keep driving she doesn't talk to him for a two days. Doesn't even sling a hostel glance in his direction, instead disregarding his presence.

:::::::: 

They sleep in the car. There's so little money and Sam can't think, can't bring himself to provide for the two of them like he should. Dean would never have let her sleep in a car and shower at a rest area, Dean made sure no matter how simple their life Lila always had enough to eat and a place to lay her head. Sam feels feeble and impotent because he can't get his act together. He thinks it'll get better with time, but days go by and there's still a searing pain that burns inside, makes his chest achy with mourning.

Sometimes at night she tugs at him from the backseat, pulls at the shoulder of his shirt until he crawls to her guilty and shamed. She curls into him like a sick kitten, mewing for his consolations and burrowing into him. She asks him to hold her and he does, even though it hurts to touch her, feels wrong when he wraps his arm around her. Has to tell himself that there's nothing wrong, he's not crossing any line, she needs to be consoled it's his job now. There's nothing wrong with _just holding her. _

In her sleep she calls him Dean, knots small fists in his chest and mumbles his brothers name - she starts talking to him in the middle of a haze, laughed light and frothy. Her mind cheery somewhere lost in a dream world, while her body was still there with him. He'd had to wake her up when he couldn't take it anymore, Lila gazed at him with sleep-drunk eyes and smiled, still wandering on the edge of her sleep-induced fantasy, patting the side of his face and slipping back into her place between his body and the vinyl seatback.

:::::::: 

It's hot in Louisiana, too fucking hot when Lila finds a fifth of Jack Daniels hidden in the trunk makes it through half the bottle before Sam confiscates it, takes a swig himself and locks it up again. Lila's already done her damage, under the influence and feeling better - feeling cured if for only a moment. She sits spread wide over the front seat, arms opened broad, sweating, with her head tipped back, rocking side to side. She slants her head, Sam watches as her eyes water, red and irritated by the pollen of recent spring days. Her nose is red-raw and makes her look semi-ridiculous in the daylight, but now combined with her chapped, swollen lips and disheveled hair she looks like she'd been fucked hard and thrown to the side.

She drops a heavy arm between her obscenely spread thighs, summer dress hiked up and rubbing a hand lewdly over her sweating skin, oblivious. Sam swallows hard and does his best not to look at her. Nothing about the way she's falling apart should be any kind of temptation - it's all enough to make him wonder what kind of sick he really is.

"Ohh Sammy" She's slurs wiggling her nose while pursing those lips. "What's the story about the celery stalk?"

Sam just looks at her, not entirely sure she's talking about.

"You know" she nods her head adamantly sitting up a little, sounding a bit irritated. "The celery that goes all the way up to the clouds"

"Lila, I don't know what you're talking about." Trying to pull her hand away from his, but instead she grabs a hold of his index and middle fingers, holding him like an infant would in her fist.

"Yes you do"

"Not celery" Sam smiles to himself when it dawns on him what she getting at. "It's a beanstalk, Jack and the Beanstalk."

"Yes, Jack….oh Jack and his stalk and his clouds…all the way to heaven…" Lila exhales noisily and sit ups, scooting closer to him, still gripping his fingers. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He looks in her watering eyes, glossy pools over her dark pupils. The smell of liquor is pungent, wafting off her tongue and to his nose. He nods yes.

"When I realized he was going to _go_…I mean when I knew it was a for sure thing and that we couldn't save him…I thought I was going to die from it, I was sure my heart was gonna stop beating and break in two." She pauses while Sam watches as her eyes tremor side to side, never leaving his stare.

She backs away from him, running a hand over her face, sweat, liquor and tears mixing together.

"I stopped taking my pill the last month, threw out the whole pack. I thought…I don't know what I thought" She opens her mouth wide, like her jaw is stuck and twists her face, "Don't worry, didn't work" She pats her flat stomach and stares hard at the silent radio.

Sam doesn't know what to say to that, he can't imagine anything making the situation _worse_ than her being pregnant through all of this.

"I wanted a son" she states matter-of-factly, "A son who would have loved Jack and the Beanstalk."

"You can still have a son.." Sam offers worriedly noncommittal, he doesn't believe in happy endings anymore.

Lila just cocks her neck and eyeballs him as if he's biggest numskull she's never seen. Shakes her head slowly, drunkenly, trying to identify with such unfathomable logic. "No," raises a finger to accentuate her point "Not a son like that, he would have been a fine, great-hearted son." Her voice cracks toward the end.

"You would have been a great mother Lila" Sam means for it to comfort, but the past tense of it coming from his mouth stings sharp in her chest.

Sam lives in a nightmare for the next week, she's weepy, hysterical, picking fights with him wherever she can. She hisses cruel accusations until she breaks down, evacuates to whatever solitary place she can find. Later she crawls back later, whispers regret in his ear.

:::::::: 

Sam ends up medicating her, doesn't make it a choice on her part, writes up a faux prescription and shoves her to pharmacy counter to have it filled. The white-coated pharmacist gifts her orange-brown bottle labeled Kate Sullivan and she peals at the white label for hours with Sam coercing her, via strong eyes, into taking the first pill.

Lorazepam. It's unheard-of and wondrous. After the first week Lila counts the hours to next dose, rolling the little white, five sided pills between the pads of her fingers. _2mg dose – God bless Sam. _At first it's too strong a dosage, the initial hits makes her sleepy and lethargic, then there's a glorious dull feeling, numb static droning in her head that comes over her in waves and shuts out everything else. She doesn't mind riding for silent hours, occupies herself by clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, picking at the panging soreness of the muscle underneath; like she's had her temperature taken again and again, until that one spot aches, strange to movement.

It becomes an incredibly, sticky, pharmaceutically-induced fog. Sam watches her heavy-lidded, wonders selfishly why he hasn't taken them away yet_. Already knows_. When she's doped up she needs to satisfy her physical itch, sits next to him in the booth while they eat and leans into his side, thigh against thigh, her shoulder crowding to his, making it hard to use both hands.

She holds his hand when they walk through the grocery store, soft fingers pushing between his own rough knuckles, cups his palm like it's nothing to her. She cranes her neck, looking at the wall of hair care products as if it might swallow her whole. He buys twenty dollars worth of Shampoo, overpriced soap and whitening, fluoride toothpaste . It's well worth the cost when Lila smells like sweet fruits and peppermint, delicate feminine aromas that make his stomach knot.

Lila curls herself up and drops her head in his lap when they drive. Lays her cheek, tender on his leg and drifts in and out of whatever factitious world she retreats to. Sam indulges, swings an arm over her, hand hovering on her hip; it's feels adulterous, covetous to touch her, bringing to the surface sentiments of affection and jealous appetite that simmered in him long before his brother withered away.

At one time he was able to admire her from afar, admire _what was_ her and Dean together. It was the idea of the two of them, gave him hope to happily appreciate – happiness was admiring without desire. All before the house fell in on itself.

She babbles every now and again, chats at him like she's feverish, delusional.

"_I can't see him like I used to, the picture isn't clear anymore, too much static in the way"_

"_I try to figure it out Sam, almost got inside my own brain, I got lost in the hallway, it was so dark and locked myself out again."_

"_I cut up the thing that's alive and beautiful to find out how it's alive and why it's beautiful, and before I knew it, it was neither of those things, and I'm standing here with blood on my face and tears in my sight and only the terrible ache of guilt to show for it." _

He takes the pills away from her, finds out she's taking more than a laughably healthy amount, which he always knew, and throws the bottle out the window while she's sleeping. He's sure she'll have a fit, hard withdraw from numbness, cold and painful. She's sick for two days, head runs hot and makes her just as senseless as before, but she comes out of it without complaining or asking for explanations. Instead she takes up smoking, _Lucky Strikes_, a pack a day from the get go, puffing heavy and watching the smoke as she exhales.

But she still sits too close, wraps a thin arm around his waist when they walk – catches him staring a little too long but doesn't call him out.

Everything is different.

Emotional occasions, especially these, violent ones, are extremely potent in precipitating mental-emotional rearrangements. The sudden and explosive ways in which love, jealousy, guilt, fear, remorse, or anger can seize upon one are known to everybody. . . . And emotions that come in this explosive way seldom leave things as they found them.


End file.
